


Homecoming Hero

by takemetoyourpizza (lje)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 1x03, Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, One mopey boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lje/pseuds/takemetoyourpizza
Summary: '“Language unbecoming of an airman,” Jesse scolds him, in that tone that Alex is never sure is completely serious, barely giving it a second before he’s back in with, “where were you last night?”There’s a lot that Alex doesn’t miss about being a teenager, but it's mostly stuff he no longer has to put up with as a fully grown man. Apparently having his social life constantly scrutinised isn’t one of them.'Somewhere in the middle of the third episode. Alex has a disagreement with Jesse, then a conversation with one of his brothers.





	Homecoming Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I've made Alex the eldest brother because the actor who plays his dad is only 47. I assume he's meant to be older in the show, but probably not that much older. Also I think he would have faced more pressure to follow in his father's footsteps as the first son.
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've posted for probably 15 years, so I can only apologise for what a mess it likely is. And sorry for the F-word about a million times. I will now run away and never look at this again.

It’s not until he pulls into the driveway at home that Alex thinks about turning back. It’s always been like this; the farther he gets away from Michael Guerin, the more he knows that he needs to be with him. It’s like he can think clearly with some distance between them, like he’s only sure that they should be together when they’re not. And then he gets close and he’s proven right, and it’s wonderful, until something spooks him, he gets scared, nothing’s so clear anymore, and he fucks it up. He’s always fucking things up.

He could just sit in his car forever, let the dry sun raise the temperature while he burns up under the heat of perpetual indecision. It’s how he feels most of the time anyway; stuck. Until he’s within a mile of Guerin and then he can’t stop making stupid decisions. So he could stay locked in his car for the rest of his life, protect himself and everyone else from his own actions. Or he could stop being so god damn pathetic and make a move.

His dad is home, for some reason, his vehicle sitting outside the house. It’s this fact that forces him to take action, swing his door open and steel himself to go outside. It’s not just the thought of Jesse waiting for him indoors that makes him take a few deep breaths to gather himself. Every time he feels the hard ground of Roswell beneath his feet, the dry New Mexico air, he has to push down the memories of Baghdad rising up in his throat, just for a second. He still can’t believe he’s allowed himself to swap one desert for another, one military base for another. So much has happened, and it’s like he’s right back where he started and somehow it still feels like he’s simultaneously 7,000 miles away. Maybe he’s destined to spend the rest of his life going from one desert to the next. 

As he lets himself into the house, Alex tries to keep quiet. Not so easy with the prosthetic and crutch, but there’s a small hope he might be able to get up to his room without his dad hearing him. 

Except there isn’t, because his dad is standing right inside the front door, making Alex spit out a curse as he jumps. If the more logical reason wasn’t that Jesse had likely seen him sitting outside, Alex would have no problem believing that his dad has some kind of sixth sense that told him just the right moment to scare the shit out of his children.

“Language unbecoming of an airman,” Jesse scolds him, in that tone that Alex is never sure is completely serious, barely giving it a second before he’s back in with, “where were you last night?” 

There’s a lot that Alex doesn’t miss about being a teenager, but a lot of it is stuff he no longer has to put up with as a fully grown man. Apparently having his social life constantly scrutinised isn’t one of them. 

“I slept over at a friend’s,” he says, maybe a little too fast, having planned what to say in the car, “Maria.” Someone Dad’s heard of but isn’t too familiar with, someone he’s mentioned since getting home. Someone female.

“I couldn’t get hold of you.” Is he saying he was worried? Criticising? Fuck if Alex can tell, if he’s ever been able to tell. Neither his tone of voice or his expression give anything away, same as it ever was. 

“My phone’s dead,” is the excuse he gives, although it’s actually just turned off. He contemplates asking why Jesse is home; he’s in uniform, which doesn’t necessarily say anything about whether he’s working because it’s rare to see him out of it, but Alex is pretty sure he should be elsewhere right now. Whatever the reason he’s home, Alex ultimately decides he doesn’t want to know enough to keep the conversation going. “I’m going to plug it in.”

He goes to dodge around his dad, avoiding his gaze, like he’s an animal he’s trying not to challenge. 

“Airman Manes.” 

Shit. What now? What the fuck now? What can he have possibly done wrong? He can certainly guess. Airmen don’t stay out all night, don’t drink to excess, don’t have fun.

“Sergeant,” Alex responds in kind, stopping short of standing to attention. His leg aches and his back hurts, and he resents having to stand on ceremony in what’s supposed to be his own home.

“I expect you to help with setting up the fundraiser this afternoon,” Dad says, and it’s not what Alex was expecting; he'd completely forgotten about the fundraiser, “and I expect you to be there tonight. In uniform.”

The fundraiser. An entire evening of playing the noble airman, the Purple Heart recipient. The hero worship, the simpering, the “thank you for your service”, the fucking pity for hours. As if the parade wasn’t enough when he got back. A parade. He had barely made it through the evening, slipping away to have a panic attack in the bathroom an hour into the proceedings before putting the mask back and slipping right back out again. He is not going to that fundraiser.

“I have physiotherapy this afternoon,” he says, and it’s true, but even if it wasn’t, it would be the perfect excuse. Even his dad can’t deny him his attempts at physical recovery, even if he’s not so enthusiastic about allowing time for mental recovery. He hesitates, tries to think of an excuse for later in the day too but can’t think of one his dad will accept, so he just goes for it. "And I’m not going to the fundraiser.”

His father's face doesn't twitch, but he knows immediately that he's not going to be rewarded for his directness.

“You will be there,” is what he gets back, Master Sergeant Manes’ tone brooking no arguments.

“Are you telling me that as my sergeant or as my father?”

He's pushing it, he knows. But he's just messed things up with Michael again, and he's so tired of all of this. He's twenty seven years old, back at home and answering to his dad again, not just in his personal life but his professional life too. As a teenager, he would have pushed even harder, tried to fight for his own side, but now he feels like most of the fight has left him. Or like he's used it all up. He's still working out how much of it he might be able to get back and what he wants it to look like.

"I'll let you decide," is what he gets back, after a tense two seconds. And what is he supposed to do with that? "I suggest you use the time between now and then to think about which one you think it should be." 

It's an old trick of his dad's. An apparent suggestion to think about something, as if the goal is to come up with an independent answer or opinion, when what he's really doing is making a clear point, making it obvious just what conclusion Alex should come to. Perhaps not too different to other parents, but it doesn't usually carry on into adulthood. 

"I'll let you know," is what Alex goes with, even though they both know he's going to be there. He can't bring himself to capitulate entirely. Still avoiding his father's gaze, he finally slips past him and makes his way upstairs.

In his room, he drops face first onto his bed, dropping his crutch on the way down, consciously tries not to think about anything, and then contemplates a nap. As he's doing so, he hears Jesse leave the house, followed by his vehicle leaving. He still hasn't moved five minutes later, idly pondering whether to scream into a pillow or go and take a bath. He turns his phone back on, fully intending to ask google which one he should do, when he immediately gets a text.

_Dude dad just told me I should tell you to "get your act together" wtf is going on? Need rescuing?_

Chris, second oldest Manes son, is just 18 months younger than Alex. Growing up with the same expectations but what Alex would estimate to be about half the pressure, he had happily started his military career but put it off until after he had attended college. He's currently stationed in Japan. They were close, but Alex would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous. Chris had always been smarter than him, and Alex had never felt like he was destined for college, even if he had thought he would be allowed. Not like Guerin, who he thought would have two PhDs by now.

_I don't know how I'm going to survive this_ Alex replies. And yeah, maybe he's being a little dramatic right now but a little self pity never hurt anyone. _I've only been back a month and I'm ready for another tour_

That's a lie and Chris knows it is, but they'll both pretend it's not for a number of reasons.

_Also_ Alex tacks on, not entirely sure of the time over there but aware that it's probably early the next day, _why are you awake_

_1) Is that a yes to the rescuing 2) I have a newborn baby fucker, just put her back to bed. Not that you would know because you haven't been to see her_  

Yet more proof that Chris has his life together more than Alex could ever dream of. He's disgustingly happily married and he and his wife have already started their family, even if it's a little earlier than they were intending to. Except, it's one thing Alex is glad he hasn't got around to yet. Not that being married doesn't sound nice, even if he can't picture exactly what it would look like, but being a parent before he's hit his late 20s is not his idea of the perfect life. Little Maya if really cute though, going by the photos and the very brief video chats when they can find a suitable time for both of them. 

When Alex doesn't reply straight away, another text comes through. _Facetime?_

_Yes please. And I was a little busy losing a leg. Next time I'll totally check to see when the baby's due first._

Facetime flashes up, a goofy teenage picture that Chris hates, which is exactly why Alex uses it. 

"God please don't talk about next time," Chris says lowly as soon as he picks up, the soft glow of a table lamp the only thing lighting up his face, "one baby is enough thanks. And also, you know, probably try not to lose any more limbs."

"Glad to hear you've got your priorities in order." 

"What are _your_ priorities right now?" is Chris' awkward response. Never let it be said that the Manes men are good at talking about feelings. The brothers have all made an effort to be more open with each other, buck the trend set by their father, but it doesn't come naturally to them, not after years of being told to push it all down. 

"Physio and not going completely fucking insane?" is what Alex comes up with, "Dad's making that second one a little difficult."

"Yeah so...what's happening?"

"We just had a fight. Or I don't know, as close as you can get to a fight with him. He wants me to go to the veterans' fundraiser tonight. I really don't want to go."

"Have you told him that? Told him why?"

"I...not exactly. I told him I wasn't going, and he told me I was."

"You know that doesn't work with him. Maybe you should tell him about how the parade was for you. Come on, Alex, he's not completely heartless. He understands fear and anxiety. He's put in his time, he knows war, knows coming home."

"Maybe, but he doesn't understand not being able to push past everything. He thinks it's something to just shake off and get on with things. And it's like since I got back, he's more concerned about my image than ever. Before I just had to put up with being his eldest son, now I'm the hero home from war. I can't put a foot wrong. Which isn't made any easier by only having one if them."

This is how they manage it. Feelings. They can just about get through it if they allow themselves to pepper everything with inappropriate jokes. Just as it's all getting a bit too real, break the tension with humour.

Chris refuses to hold up his end of the deal by laughing or continuing the joke. Instead he sighs, and scratches his nose, a sure sign that he's actually worried about Alex.

"I don't know, man. I know you're still recovering, but maybe you need to think about getting out of there. Even if you're not ready to transfer, your own place could help. Or just a room somewhere. Do you really want to be stuck living with Dad for the rest of your life? 

He thinks about what it feels like when he's out in his civvies, finally free of the uniform, when he's sat at a bar with some old friends or tucked up next to Guerin in the Airstream. How his shoulders feel a little looser, he can breathe a little easier. He knows, logically, that only having to work with his dad and not live with him too would lessen the tension between them, at least on his side.

"Yeah, maybe," he goes with, not ready to commit to anything. It had been taken as read that Alex would be living at home when he returned, and he hadn't had the energy to question it. He's still not sure if he does, especially when he doesn't know how his dad would react. Would he be applauded for taking responsibility for himself or labelled ungrateful for not wanting to live under Jesse's watchful eye any longer? 

"So is that it? Just general shittiness from being back home? Or is something else going on? Dad's text said you were out all night. By the way, you're lucky I was awake and that Dad has a flagrant disregard for time zones or I wouldn't have seen it. Also, he said "who's Maria?" You know he doesn't remember anyone we've ever been friends with. He'll convince himself that you've turned and got a girlfriend."

"I uh...I didn't spend the night with Maria," he figures he might as well be honest with someone, "I might have...reconnected with someone since I got back."

"What? Who?" His brother whispers harshly, brows furrowed, before he realises that it can only really be one person, "Fuck Alex, not Michael Guerin? Don't start this again. It did not end well last time, and from what I hear, he hasn't improved with age. You really think another secret relationship is what you need right now?"

"How would you know? And you don't know everything, ok? Things got messy last time, we both made it really complicated. We're older and wiser now." He's not sure if that's a lie. They're both certainly different. "Anyway, he totally got better with age. He's at least twice as hot, and the sex is - " Another skill the Manes men are masters in, steering the conversation into overshare territory to push someone else into dropping the conversation.

"Yeah, ok, have fun creeping around with loverboy. Don't say I didn't warn you when it all gets messed up again."

"It's probably too late for that, anyway. Pretty sure I've already fucked it up by freaking out this morning. He wanted to tell Isabelle about us. 

"Well, that's pretty hypocritical. You told me."

"Uh no, you saw us together and then forced it out of me later." And hadn't that been just about one of the most simultaneously terrifying and awkward moments of Alex's teenage years.

"So are you saying if I hadn't, you would never have told me? That hurts me, big brother." He puts a mock-offended hand to his chest, and laughs at his own joke. 

"Sure, whatever. There, there." 

"Your sympathy is noted and appreciated," Chris grins, then gives Alex a view of his tonsils with a jaw-cracking yawn, "I have to get back to bed. But listen, if you don't want to do something, don't do it for Dad's sake. You're going to have to start sticking up for yourself a bit more if you don't want him controlling you forever. You know we're all here for you if you need help, me and Kelly, Aaron and Jon. Maya can't do much yet, but she does have this way of making you feel like you can do anything."

"Gross. Go and enjoy your perfect family. Get some sleep before you say anything even more sappy." 

"Ok, bye. Talk soon," Chris signs off, then just before he hangs up adds, "And for God's sake, stop fucking Michael Guerin."

Alex takes a moment to breathe, processing their conversation. He thinks he feels better for having talked to his brother, maybe like things are a little clearer. He can always count on Chris to push him in the right direction without being too harsh. He knows he's being pathetic, that he can't let his dad control his life and then complain about it, not anymore. But knowing that and actually doing something about it are two different things.

Baby steps. He's pretty sure he can do baby steps. He's not used to doing anything for himself, not anymore, and he's just going to have to ease himself back into it. He's going to the fundraiser, but he'll do it his own way. No uniform, and he's going to watch the movie, not to receive a line of locals who want to thank him for his service or say how sorry they are about his leg.

And he's going to make things up to Michael. Maybe he'll take that nap first.


End file.
